


Better

by maiNuoire



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Breaking Up & Making Up, Derek Uses His Words, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Insecure Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Moving In Together, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-03-03 09:39:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13338525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maiNuoire/pseuds/maiNuoire
Summary: Derek poses an important question, and Stiles has an unexpected reaction.(After a few confessions, things work out, I promise!)A little subversion on the "I'm not good enough for you" trope in the Sterek fandom.





	Better

**Author's Note:**

> I had intended this to be a few fluffy paragraphs for @palesilvercomb's birthday, but I failed at that a lot. Enjoy?
> 
> Please let me know what you think, your love and comments keep me motivated!

Derek stood stock still, certain he had misheard Stiles, certain he hadn't just said he was leaving, that they should take some time apart. 

 

He's couldn't have heard right, because everything has been about as perfect as it could be while still feeling real. They've been so good together, better than Derek had ever thought he could have; he hasn't been so happy since he was fifteen. He was so sure that Stiles felt the same, was so sure of it that he'd given him the gift of a key to his apartment, and a promise of equal closet space. But Stiles had gone pale, his scent going sour with unnamed hurt. 

 

And before Derek could process what had gone wrong, Stiles stood up abruptly-- the key still clutched in his hand, as though letting go was the last thing he wanted-- and said in a small, broken way, “I think we need some time apart,” the last word breaking in the middle around a choked off sob that told Derek every single word was a lie that cost Stiles dearly. 

 

That spurred Derek into action, Stiles’ need for comfort unfreezing him, even as his confusion was growing. 

 

In the space of a breath, Derek was on front of Stiles, his hands not hesitating to reach out and cup Stiles’ face, gently urging him to look up from his feet and let Derek see him, try to get a read on what he was thinking. When their eyes met after a long moment, wherein Derek's learned patience was sorely tested, Stiles’ were shiny with unshed tears and Derek reflexively pulled him close, relieved beyond measure when instead of tensing, Stiles melted against him, winding his arms around Derek and clutching at his shirt; the stiffness of his posture dissipating with a comforting stroke from Derek's hand against his back, and a few murmured reassurances. The soft clatter of the key hitting the floor barely registers, even to Derek's ears. 

 

When Stiles calms enough to speak, he pulls away, but Derek doesn't let him get any further than is necessary for them to see each other, keeping them connected with a hand at Stiles’ hip as his other one gently wipes away the remaining dampness from Stiles’ cheek. 

 

Derek searches Stiles’ face for a clue, letting the quiet settle over them, giving them both a chance to gather their thoughts. After an achingly long time, Stiles’ eyes flutter shut, and he breathes out a “Der, please” that's made of nothing more than an exhale and the belief that Derek will know what's meant to be written in the air between them. 

 

Derek replies in something that could be called a whisper, but carries desperate pleas that sounded a claxon call. “Anything, Stiles, anything. Just. Help me understand, I don't- what did I do wrong?”

 

Stiles seems startled by the question, and as though he's forgotten that he was trying to leave a moment ago, he grabs at Derek's shoulders, his thumbs skating along the column of Derek's neck. “Nothing, Derek. You're so good to me, and I don't de- You've done nothing wrong, okay? Nothing.” For all that he's still speaking quietly, as though they're in a fragile place and too much noise would shatter it around them, he's fierce in his assertion, and Derek’s heart swells with Stiles’ defense of him, even now. 

 

Shaking his head, Derek moves one hand to tangle with Stiles’, using the contact to move it to his own cheek, where he immediately pushes into the warmth of Stiles’ palm, Derek asks “Then why? Why were you going to leave? If you need time, I'll give you all the time you need, but-”

 

“No!” Stiles shouts, the volume startles them both after what feels like hours of whispers. Derek hushes him with the gentle movement of his fingertips against Stiles’ wrist and hip, waiting again for some kind of clarity. “I don't want time, or space, or a break. I don't want to leave you ever, not for anything.” Stiles’ eyes are wide and his words earnest, everything about him begs Derek to believe him, and he does. He just can't understand

 

Slowly, so Stiles sees it coming, Derek moves his hand from where it still holds Stiles’ against his own cheek, and places it against Stiles’ instead, his fingers resuming their careful caress. “Then why were you walking away just now, when I asked you to move in, to stay?” Derek asks as calmly as he can manage, but he knows his confusion makes the tone harsher than he means to be. 

 

Faced with the question, Stiles struggles to answer, every response seeming ridiculous and leaving an unsatisfying taste on his tongue. “Everything's been so great, since we started dating, even in the early days when we still flirted mostly with sarcasm, it's been incredible.” Derek doesn't need supernatural senses to recognize the honesty, and the way Stiles’ eyes shine with it as his gaze asks Derek for understanding erases any doubts he might have had. “It's been so good, and I think I've just been waiting for the other shoe to drop, Der. Because I don't get this y’know? I don't- I haven't earned this yet.”

 

He can feel the tension building in Stiles again, so with a slow drag, he lets his hand fall away from Stiles’ face and hip, giving him the chance to step away and pace of he needs to. And he does. Derek resists the urge to interrupt and argue, to reach out to him again and pull him close until he believes he belongs there. He listens. 

 

“I've done so much I regret, and no one's ever gotten that like you do, no one's ever let me feel that guilt and deal with it like you do. No one else has ever looked me in the eye, knowing everything, and made me believe that I'm not guilty, that I'm forgiven if I need to be like you.” Stiles is pacing, his hands moving between emphasizing his point and running through his hair, and Derek wants to hold him until all the fight drains out of him and he knows he's worthy, like they've done for each other dozens of times before.

 

“I want forever with you so badly, but half the time I'm convinced that all I've done is saddle you with a comic book movie collection and recurring nightmares.” Stiles moves back into Derek's space, his hands cradling his face again, eyes wide and damp with renewed emotion. “You are an actual, honest to gods hero, Derek. You've done more for the people of this stupid town than any one person should be able to, never even mind what you've done for me, for dad, for our pack. You're so good. And you've grown so much, I love you so much, and i don't know sometimes what you even see in me. What we're even doing-” Derek has a vehement rebuttal on the tip of his tongue, but Stiles places a finger over his lips, stopping it before it's more than a thought. “I know you love me, Der. I know with everything I am that you love me; you show me- you tell me- every day, and I don't know what I would do if that stopped. I don't even know what my life would look like without you, and I don't want to. I just,” Stiles looks a little frantic, so Derek takes one of his hands and holds it against his chest, lets Stiles feel the rise and fall of it as he breathes deliberately slowly. 

 

Stiles’ head falls against Derek's shoulder, his breath evening out and some of the manic energy leaving him. But when he speaks again, he sounds defeated. “You deserve so much better than me, and sometimes I'm afraid you'll look at me and notice.”

 

Derek's heart hurts in a way that's unfamiliar in the context of his relationship with Stiles, and a small, broken sound slips past his lips. Even now, Stiles soothes him, rubbing his cheek along Derek's throat, surrounding him with his scent. “Stiles,” he manages, a million things unsaid after, but he knows Stiles heats every one of them. 

 

“I know how it sounds, Der. I know it's ridiculous. We did this whole ‘I'm not worthy’ dance before we’d even done more than kiss. I haven't been this stupid since I was sixteen, but I feel like you're increasingly out league, and every little old lady who tells me how you mowed her lawn, or carried her groceries, just drives home how good you are, and I'm not sure I deserve that.”

 

They're hugging now, just holding each other and not letting go.

 

“You’ve never been stupid,” Derek says, Stiles snorts, mutters something like ‘We both know that’s a lie’, and it makes Derek smile, so he presses the curve of his mouth into Stiles’ temple. “Okay,” he concedes, “Right this minute you’re being pretty stupid. But apparently I have been, too, because I didn’t realize all this was going on in that beautiful brain of yours.” Stiles makes a sound of protest, takes a breath, gearing up to start again, and Derek shushes him. “Uh-uh, babe. My turn.”

 

Stiles huffs against Derek’s neck, but stays quiet, moves a little closer, and Derek takes in a deep breath of their combined scent, gratified that Stiles no longer smells of hurt. “You are the most ridiculous man I have ever met in my entire life, and I am grateful for that every single day that we have together. I thought we had figured out all the places we needed help healing years ago, but for all our practice at it, we both forgot that it’s not a thing you can stop working on, this growing thing. And I know that I have done all my best growing since I met you.”

 

There’s a small wet spot growing on Derek’s shoulder, and he holds Stiles ever so slightly tighter. “You are probably the most selfless person I will ever know, selfless to a fault, to your own detriment. And without you, none of this works. Not the pack, not our lives. Not me. You have to field Mrs. Beale singing my praises, but have you ever been cornered at the grocery store by the Wallmans so they can quiz you about ‘your dear partner, the one who wrote that book, he always was such a smart boy’? Or Herman at the hardware store, who thinks the way you take care of your dad and of me is ‘the mark of a good man’? I do, and every one of those things makes me so proud to know you.”

 

Derek pulls back, his hands on Stiles’ shoulders so he can look him in the eye. “All of the changes I’ve made, are because when you looked at me, I felt like I was being seen, and I wanted to be someone worth looking at. Even if we hadn’t ended up together-and thank god we did, Stiles- you made me want to be better. You crashed into my life, into the mess that it was back then, and you just ran right through it; you took it all in stride and made yourself an expert, and you held us all up. Literally, in my case,” Derek adds with a tiny smirk. When Stiles rolls his eyes, Derek feels like he’s won something.

 

“You saw all the broken places in me, and you pointed them out, and you made me want to fix them. And then, you helped me with them, even before we were more than allies, you were there. And when you needed help, you let me in, which I think you hate doing more than I do. You are stronger and more capable, and more full of goodness than you give yourself credit for. So, Stiles, there is absolutely no one in the whole world that could be better for me, than you.”

 

Stiles is staring at him, mouth slightly agape, tears leaving silent tracks on his cheeks, and his hands holding both of Derek’s wrists where they frame his face. “Okay?” Derek says quietly, refusing to look away until Stiles agrees.

 

With a shuddering breath, and a small, shaky smile, he does. “Yeah, yeah, okay.”

 

Derek heaves a relieved sigh, and rests his forehead against Stiles’, an “I love you” that is mostly a sob gusting out with his breath.

 

“I love you, too,” Stiles answers, pressing their lips together almost desperately, repeating it over and over between kisses. Derek responds in kind as Stiles shuffles his feet and attempts to climb him. Derek moves to accommodate Stiles’ weight, and then they’re tumbling to the ground, the forgotten key causing them both to lose their footing. They land with an ‘oof’ and in a tangle of limbs, momentarily stunned, and then are overcome with laughter. It’s cathartic and joyful and leaves them breathless.

 

When they catch their breath, they kiss some more, mostly chaste, warm affirmations of their love, with occasional shocking sweeps of tongue against warm lips, and playful nips; the rhythm easy like it always has been between them.

 

Stiles reaches out blindly, unwilling to part from Derek, and manages to find the key. He breaks contact only long enough to show it to Derek and ask “Can I still accept?”

 

Derek answers “You better,” and then rolls Stiles under him to kiss the smile that blooms on his face.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this, please let me know with a kudos or a kind word!
> 
> If you want to yell at me-or with me-about Sterek, feminism, politics, etcetera, come see me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/poetry-protest-pornography)


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